Red
by punchit
Summary: In the MirrorVerse AU, Spock finds himself drawn to the captain's woman, with his impending blood fever forcing him to make a move.
1. red

The first time Nyota noticed the Vulcan staring at her, she had assumed it was because he suspected she was up to something.

That would be logical.

Marlena, her predecessor in this position, had attempted to assassinate Kirk after-all. And for that she had been made an example of, ten full hours in the agonizer booth followed by lethal injection; excruciating torture followed by the humiliating death born of the only emotion one could muster for her at that point, pity.

It had been a long time after that by Kirk's standards before he began hunting for a replacement, one he had had his eye on from the moment she boarded the ship.

She had been propositioned before, of course and not just by Kirk, but she had no need to take up any man's offer, until recently. She had been Pike's woman, a woman of substantial position until the latest attempt on his life proved successful.

Despite her valuable skills, aurally and with a blade, she feared being taken by force if she could not find protection.

Kirk was the only sensible choice.

So, she said yes.

Kirk fucked like he did everything else, with a charmingly cocky bluster and the know-how to back it up. He cared for her about as much any other good fuck-toy, which was actually quite well, for a man like Kirk. As long he remained Captain, she would remain protected.

There was, however, also the matter of the Vulcan. He seemed to have taken a strange interest in her. At first she thought it was her imagination, the large fathomless eyes she felt on her while she worked, his increasingly invasive nearness when he needed to use her workstation.

She believed he thought she was plotting, attempting some kind of elaborate subterfuge and was merely making certain she would not repeat Marlena's performance.

A moment in the turbolift, however, solidified the truth of his attentions. She walked past him; tall, wiry, neatly trimmed hair on his head and face. She had to admit, she found him enticing, but Vulcans were dangerous and not easily manipulated. They could be swayed by neither bribes nor sexual favors. Their sole ambition seemed to be serving their superiors well.

So, though he did pique her interest in that fashion, she followed her head and maintained a wide-berth, keeping a wary, suspicious eye on him.

His eyes, intense as always, followed her form, the severe cut of her shiny bob, the high-gloss shine of her patent-red lipstick, the flat plains of her exposed belly.

It was a small thing her eyes picked up, the tiniest tremor in his hand before she faced the doors, watching them whisper to a close. She pretended to focus on her padd, her legs relaxed and slightly shifted apart, readying herself. Her left hand casually rested on the dagger holster strapped to the outside of her pants.

The air was thick with quiet tension as she waited for the Vulcan to try her, to give her a reason. She wanted him to, but he did not.

He never touched her, but she could swear she felt the thick heat of him close, _so very close_ behind her and a whisper of warm air at the nape of her neck. So near, he had to be breathing her in.

A warm coil unfurled inside her at that thought and her eyes slipped shut for a full two seconds. Surprised and ashamed of herself, she gripped the hilt of her dagger and turned to find him feet away, his hands folded innocuously behind him.

"Is there a problem, Lt.?" he inquired, his expression blank, but his damn eyebrow quirked knowingly.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "No, Commander." a pause... "Lucky for you."

It was risky, threatening a superior officer, but she did share Kirk's bed and gave him quite a bit of pleasure. The Vulcan would have to have a damn good reason for depriving him of that.

The doors swished open and she walked away, her confident stride betraying nothing of her current distractions.

She was still bothered by the wave of need she felt at just a puff of air.

Kirk was flirting with her on the bridge, fingertips dancing along her bare belly in full view of the other officers, making them hate her all the more.

The Vulcan, his second, was noticeably absent.

"Where's your alien?"

"Sick." He said, with a sigh. "Tarkalean flu. Apparently, their immune systems aren't invulnerable."

He dipped his face to the juncture of her throat and shoulder, bee-stung lips stealing a taste of her skin, while she frowned at that bit of information.

If there was one thing her gut was telling her, it was that this was _not_ Tarkalean flu.

He wanted her after-duty. He whispered it to her throughout her shift on the bridge, told her exactly what he would do to her and with enough detail to make her wet for it.

Pulling her into his room and against him, his hands cupped her ass, his kiss rough enough to bruise.

The last thing she remembered was the clinking thud of her holster landing on top of Kirk's command shirt, before all went black.

When she came to, the room slowly swimming into her vision, she noted the dull throb at her neck, her prone position, and the impossibly heavy weight on her hips and wrists. She turned her head and spotted a sightlessly wide-eyed Kirk, still shirtless, laying on the floor near the bed.

A naked, trembling, visually aroused Vulcan was straddling her.

"You _do not_belong to him anymore." He said, his eyes bright and glistening wetly.

"Because you killed him." She stated as if noting the weather.

This was not the first time she'd been in such a position. Those foolhardy few who had tried it ended up dead or short a few key parts, but she never had to fight off a Vulcan male.

She remained calm, calculating her next move. Perhaps she could convince him she wanted it. This would not take much, she knew, since part her a big part of her did.

He _was _Captain now. She would be his woman, if Vulcans were in the habit of taking humans, in that fashion. They supposedly only bonded with their own. They did not take human lovers.

...Until this.

There had been whispers that this Vulcan, one of Spock's parents was human.

Perhaps...

He switched both of her wrists to one hand, and trailed his free hand along the side of her face, his fingertips ghosting across those key points for mental contact.

"You, -you, _pleased_ him." He said, fingertips skating over her thinned lips.

She said nothing to this. She did not think he wanted an answer, but his grip on her wrists tightened.

"-Yes." She gasped.

"...And Pike." He tightened again, painfully.

_"Yes!"_

"You will do so_ for me _as well." he said darkly.

She licked her lips. "Of course, Spock."

"Gladly."

He blinked and reached beside them, retrieving her own dagger.

Pressing the tip to the hollow of her throat, he continued, his usual measured even tones, deeper and rougher than she had ever heard him.

"Approximately eighty six hours and nineteen minutes ago I stood very close to you. I could hear your heartbeat elevate significantly beyond normal human levels, smell the elevated levels of pheromones in your skin."

He allowed the dagger to trace a delicate trail between her breasts, pausing at the tiny rosette-shaped clasp of her bra.

"...My proximity aroused you. So, while you would believe that you are lying to me, I could sense then and also now, that you are not."

He let the dagger slip into the joint of the clasp, skillfully using the tip to undo the bra without damaging it.

Keeping his eyes steady on her own, he continued.

"By the standards of many species, you are attractive, Nyota. As a Vulcan, however I have had little difficulty keeping my... _desire_ for you hidden."

He allowed his eyes to wander to her lips, clavicle, nipples._ "Controlled..."_

" ...I find, that I can no longer. Nyota, I burn for you."

He lowered his head, and let his tongue flicker around an areola. Closing his lips around her nipple, he sucked with an audible smack.

She shivered.

"You belong to me, now." He gave her breast a brief hard squeeze for emphasis.

"You are my mate."

He lowered his face to her neck and began to lick and nuzzle her there, like a cat scenting it's master.

"I need. _-need _to fuck you." Something inside her tipped at that word coming from his mouth, but for Spock no other would do.

This would not be copulation, intercourse, lovemaking.

It would be fucking.

"I do not wish to rape you, but I will if I must. It will soon be beyond my control."

He held himself above her again, locking eyes with her. She found the intensity in them almost unbearable. She was as captive to them as she was to his strength, to her own withering resolve.

"You cannot over-power me." Reflexively tightening a warning once last time, he relaxed his grip on her wrists completely.

She let them stay crossed above her head.

A slow smile curled on her lips. "Well. If you're going to fuck me Spock, do it well."

He blinked hard twice and then scooted down lower, straddling her thighs.

He reached between her legs and slid a finger along the seam of her crotch, testing a theory, savoring the dampness there.

It immediately came undone, with an elastic snap. Just as he had guessed, her undergarments were made for the promise of sexual activity. The closure released with the press of a fingertip.

He eagerly insinuated himself between her legs and without warning thrust three fingers into her, his thumb winding lazily against the hood over clit. She had been wet, very wet, and the noises his movements were making reverberated obscenely in the silent room.

As he thrust faster, he seemed torn between watching her face and his skillful work. He settled on her face.

With a cracked yelp, she came abruptly and hard, so much so she tried to shimmy away, but he gripped her hip with bruising force and worked his fingers faster, forcing her to ride out _-too much-_ every delicious wave.

Before she could come down, she felt her legs being lifted, her hips angled upwards and the slow deliberate penetration of something much bigger.

She hissed at the delicious pressure, ached to be filled with it. He rammed home abruptly, drawing out another sharp cry, the tension in his face, becoming more pronounced. His eyebrows drew together, his lips parted, his breathing labored on, as he pounded into her with abandon, madness completely taking hold.

Nyota's arms spread out in a wide arch, grabbing fistfuls of sheet as she tried to ground herself in the onslaught. Pike had enjoyed watching her pleasure herself on his elaborate machines...

Spock was one.

It felt so good, she relished the dull ache that came with it. She squeezed her eyes shut, unbidden tears leaking from them. He panted against her hair, his sharp breaths becoming grunts and she felt herself coming again, roughly being shoved into the blinding white of pure pleasure.

His movements stuttered in response, her body gripping him, pulling him along, over the edge with her until he roared in completion.

After. He fucked her twice more before melding with her. Within her mind, he found the beginnings of a twisted spark, a capacity for refined cruelty, fierce ambition, and a complete indifference for all but herself... and now, Spock.

He had tried to shield parts of his own mind from her, but she reached deeply with her own, greedily gleaning everything she could find, his father's vicious bigotry for his humanity, his reconciling that with the love _-and contempt-_ he knew he felt for his mother.

The curiosity he was, envied for the favored pet status his humanity brought him in the Empire and despised all the more for it by all.

The first tendrils of lust he felt for her as Pike held her in a corridor, his fingers reaching for her mouth.

Spock had watched her, wanted her then, possessed by a greed he did not think himself capable of, as she pressed her glossy red lips together and smiled.


	2. blue

A/N: _Thanks for the reviews! I'm adding as I'm inspired to._

She awoke slowly, her consciousness attempting to glean the difference between the dream and reality.

She was aware of aches and pains on her hips, her wrists, the tender flesh between her legs, which throbbed even now with the ghost of what she had surrendered herself to.

A hot weight curled against her back, heavy arm thrown over her body, fingertips grazing her heat. She needed to shower, to go get something to eat, to drink.

She moved slowly, arching away. The hand tightened on her hip.

"I have to go to the bathroom, Spock." She said condescendingly. The grip relaxed and she padded away, taking care of her needs and showering.

That done, she examined herself in the mirror. The way he had marked her. Bluish bruises which decorated her neck, the underside of a breast, her belly, her inner-thigh.

She stood on legs that were unsteady, sore at their apex. She had not stretched, _-been bent_ in that way since she was a child taking ballet classes.

She occupied herself with pinning back her damp hair, tucking it under at the nape of her neck. She hated the way she looked without make-up, like a little girl, vulnerable, an easy victim. She suppressed the urge to apply some make-up, hung up her towel and followed her usual routine, finding one of her simple long night-tanks in Kirk's closet to wear.

She didn't bother with underwear. She was more comfortable without it and she suspected they would be gone again soon, anyway. Coming back out she noted Spock sitting in the kitchen with tea and soup.

He gestured at the small glass table. "Please." She was amazed at how immaculate the Vulcan could manage to look having only just rolled out of bed. Though she could see a shadow beginning along his bearded chin.

She sat down opposite of him, sipping the tea slowly and taking a few spoonfuls of hot soup.

"I am aware that the human palette for the most part, has a tendency to find traditional Vulcan sustenance bland."

"-It's fine." She said, cutting him off, her voice creaky and horse.

They both finished the late-early meal in silence.

After her last swallow of tea, she asked. "What did you do with Kirk's body?"

"Those loyal to me, helped me dispose of it while you slept. It is no longer on the ship."

"And those loyal to Kirk?"

"-Will serve me, lest I employ a small demonstration of what would occur if they do not. ...It will likely be required."

"Likely." She said, with a hard chuckle.

She played with the spoon in her empty bowl.

"-And, I would suggest, the fewer people who know about this, this..." Even now, she could feel him inside of her, taking up real estate within her mind, quite comfortable there.

"_-Bond._" He supplied helpfully.

She sighed. "The better." She did not know what she felt. This thing, they had what they had done was different from any other experience. It was the thing life had taught her to avoid for it's danger; that it would only weaken. This closeness to another meant she was vulnerable to him even as she knew he was also.

She wanted to hate him, wanted to have that power over him without surrendering her own, but she couldn't. Even now, she felt the exact opposite. And that terrified her more than anything ever had.

She could sense just what this Vulcan's true nature was. A crush of emotion held in check by simple disciplined practice. It could devour her easily in it's wake, if he abandoned it. This too frightened her, but also drew her in all the more deeply.

His hand slid across the table, two fingers gliding alongside her hand, that small touch conveying he wanted her still.

"It is curious. I find you much more desirable in this state, before you have taken the pains to purposely make yourself so."

"Spock. I'm-"

"There are other ways, Nyota." He stood and promptly collected their dishes and placed them in the cycler.

"Come." He said offering a hand.

"But we don't-"

"You usually spend on average eighteen point two hours in Kirk's company, which gives us another two hours before you will be missed."

"Come here." he said, a note of urgency slipping into his steady baritone voice.

She did as she was told, and he drew her to the bedroom, slipping both hands over her thin tank-dress, pressing his fingers into her back, along her spine, at her shoulders, and at the nape of her neck, until at the last she felt herself relax, her body becoming like liquid.

His hand drifted to her face, applying slight pressure to those key points and...

This place was different from the place she had willfully explored, these were not secrets of his youth, his family...No, these were secrets about her.

His desire for her, his fantasies. Red lips. Exposed belly. Long legs.

Nyota restrained. Freely applying fingers, cock, tongue...making her come for him, only him. She could feel what he felt in these indulgences, which as she learned, he had fought hard to suppress. But she invaded his thoughts, the more he suppressed them the more deeply the want became.

Then his pon farr was upon him and there was no longer a choice. He needed to mate with her and with her alone. She could see him trying and failing to substitute Ensign Lorel'l.

-Throwing her out of his quarters, as she was not satisfactory.

She could feel the tension, the hot flare of rage as he watched her with Kirk, the ease with which he had disposed of Kirk, the tension, the pain in his arousal as he straddled her, the relief as he finally entered her. She moaned aloud at this and pressed her legs together, it was like being fucked all over again.

At some point he lay her down on Kirk's bed, while he continued to feed her this...experience.

Pounding into her, tight and so wet... Her heat squeezing him, until... She screamed.

When she came back from the place he had taken her she felt a pool of wetness between her legs, and his hot breath at her neck. And then he was turning her over so she faced away from him, his hand at her throat, he was lifting her leg high over his thigh and he was pushing forward into her sopping wet cunt.

She could do nothing but allow him to fuck her, just as she needed him to; was now shamelessly begging him to.

This was her nightmare. To be completely beholden to another's whims, even as he was to her own.


	3. after

A/N: _No smut in this chapter. Just plot._

The tension on the bridge was thick. Everyone did their jobs, but not without a note of resentment in the acknowledgment of every followed order.

Kirk had been a good captain by Terran standards. He dealt out his punishments out efficiently. Enjoying it no less, but he was merciful when it served him.

Spock, on the other hand seemed less inclined towards mercy. He often advised heavier punishment for offenses than Kirk eventually settled on. He believed it was logical. Harsh punishments meant fewer would risk making the same mistakes.

There was also the matter of his mixed heritage. One might wonder if he implemented harsher punishments because he needed to prove that he was as loyal as any Terran officer.

Of course, that would be an emotional rationalization that Spock himself, would deny.

This was the way with The Empire, captains changed like worn core-parts, used-up, burned out, or sensing some weakness, switched-out by hand. In this case, Spock's.

As a half-caste, his promotion was only begrudgingly permitted because of his years of service. They also feared him, their prejudice preventing them from attempting to usurp him.

For now.

Spock was not stupid. He knew in this in unstable time, there would be attempts. His spies kept their ears and eyes open.

The official story had been that Kirk had simply disappeared, as so many of his opponents had.

Vulcans do not lie. And Spock had not. He simply omitted the full nature and cause of Kirk's "disappearance".

Uhura entered the bridge, suspicious eyes following her. Carefully, she sat down at her station. She ached all over, but she would be damned if she would let on to any of the sharks on the bridge.

Chekov sneered. Sulu flexed his jaw and sucked his teeth. Both men's glances were full of barely contained malice. Sulu had been loyal to Kirk and would seek revenge. Chekov was likely angered that he lost the chance to kill him, himself, as well as any benefit the murder would have brought him.

Even McCoy, had made his way to the bridge to "check on her", as he called it, gauging her involvement.

He leaned over her station, a wide-smile playing on his lips.

"How you feeling today? I imagine the news had to be tough."

"- I'm fine." she said, and turned towards him, dialing down the sound on her earpiece. "We were close, but not in that way, as you well know, Doctor."

"Yeah, I do." he replied, tricorder in hand. "Fair exchange all-around. Nothing personal, right?"

"And believe me, I don't blame you. Many a woman's had to do what you've done. But funny thing, you were the last person he was seen with. It wouldn't be much of a stretch to imagine what even a pretty lady like you might do, in a position like that. Might take advantage. Hell, Marlena did."

"McCoy, I never saw what happened to him. And your tricorder readings will show you that my heart-rate, pupils, and voice have remained steady, with that answer."

He glanced down at the instrument, his eyes belying the fact that he was not placated at all.

"Well, darlin' I'd imagine you'd be pretty good at using that mouth of yours to do lots of thangs-"

He said, brushing her hair away from her cheek.

"-including _lying._" he drawled, his fingertips finding the deep bruises just peeking out from under her cuffs.

He held her hand and pushed up the sleeve. "Strange, I've never known him to be that rough."

"-You've been drinking." She said with an edge of warning. She'd always been fond of the doctor. He was a no bullshit kind of guy, and she liked that, but she would hurt him if she had to.

"Doctor, you no doubt are aware of the Empire's official policy regarding deaths and disappearances on-board a star-ship." Spock stood behind him, tall and relaxed, his hands folded behind him. "- Lacking a witness, no crime has been committed."

McCoy rolled his eyes, while Spock waited, holding his gaze for a long moment.

"Leave the Lt. to her work."

"Aye, aye, captain." He replied sarcastically.

The Lt.'s work of late had been listening for word of a strange vessel, possibly carrying alien hostiles. This would not usually be much cause for alarm, but for reports that this vessel had destroyed a Terran Space station, as well as all the ships that were docked there with little trouble. The weaponry this vessel carries must be advanced.

She worked quietly, noting that Spock had not left his post for the entire time she was on duty. He knew what would happen, now that she was no longer the captain's consort.

Being in space, isolated as they were; people did awful things for the sake of certain comforts. And women, though they made up a huge percentage of Starfleet, were still in relative short supply. Women who looked like Uhura? Were that much more in demand, so to speak.

So, she was now available in the eyes of the crew, and without protection. Though, no one would dare in front of the captain.

"Lt., you are relived."

"Yes, sir." she said, her heart lurching.

Fear-induced adrenalin was already coursing through her body. She stepped into the turbo-lift and keyed in her destination. Her eyes wide and wary, she checked her blind-spots before entering the corridor, her dagger drawn.

Once to her door, she looked in both directions once more, before typing in the code for entry. She changed it as soon as the doors slid shut behind her.

She felt paranoid, and slightly stupid, but she knew this was what she had to do, be diligent about protecting herself. Especially now. It wasn't just horny officers she had to look out for. There were also those she knew blamed her for Kirk's death. McCoy was just the most forthcoming with his thoughts.

McCoy had loved Kirk, platonically, and beyond as well, she suspected. Leave it to him to have some kind of revenge trap waiting for her in her own cabin.

She checked every room thoroughly and finally made herself relax, changing out of her uniform, asking the computer to replay the sonic anomalies recorde while she was on duty.

While she waited for the computer to finish preparing her meal, the computer cheerily chirped.

_"Engineer Olson and Ensign Yor are attempting to gain unauthorized en-"_

The computer wound down suddenly, like a broken clock.

Uhura quickly got to her feet as the doors slid half-way open.

She grabbed her dagger and pressed her back against the wall.

Yor, a tall scaly, gray-skinned, red-eyed alien, followed in behind Olson, who could scarcely scrape together enough credits to buy a woman, when he wanted.

He had a reputation for taking where none was given. He would not have dared attempt this on his own, but the presence of his alien friend must have given him the balls to try.

Pity.

He was the first to enter her room, eager and stupid. His throat cut and life almost completely spilled out, before he had time to register the wet warmth darkening the front of his red uniform.

She held up her dagger and addressed the alien in his language.

"How many credits?"

"Five hundred."

"I will double it, if you leave and tell me when someone asks you to do this, again."

"Terran bitch!"

The alien lunged at her. It was much stronger than her, but slow. She simply allowed the alien to to carry it's momentum over her outstretched leg and gave it a hard shove, face forward into the corner of a table and to the floor.

She planted a knee in it's back, pulled one of it's arm-like limbs back, and pressed two fingers against it's sensitive ear nodules, eliciting a high-pitched scream.

"Take my offer, Yor." she said and dug in deeper.

The screaming keyed up to a higher pitch.

_"Okay!"_ it replied, this time in Standard.

It screamed again, this time convulsing in pain, practically bucking Uhura off.

It's agonizer had been activated.

"I have orders to dispose of it." A young Vulcan security guard stood next to her door, his finger on the trigger of the creature's agonizer. "You are well?"

Uhura stood up and assessed herself. She had a of lot blood on her clothing, but none of it was her own.

"Yes. I'm fine. Leave me. - And take this with you." she said, landing a well-placed kick to it's gut.

He nodded and dragged Yor out of her cabin.

Shaken, she stripped off her bloody clothing and took a long hot shower.

Clean and comfortable she crawled into her bed and tried to rest. Eventually, she drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

Only vaguely, in her dreams, did she feel the warm press of Spock's mind, making known his presence in her bed. She struggled against the sudden invasion, stirring and humming in her sleep, but she knew he was there for her safety. Knowing he was there eased her into her deeper slumber, almost against her will. She had no need to concern herself, she would be protected.

Sleep was most important, right now.

Spock lay awake beside her for five hours holding her close, taking comfort in her proximity. He slipped out of her room, while she slept, twenty one minutes before he needed to be on duty.


	4. storm

It had been wise, keeping their bond a secret. It allowed time for those who would conspire to make themselves known.

Those who suspected Uhura had not acted alone, watched and were watched. Spock's spies worked quickly, identifying everyone who had been involved.

They were shown no mercy. Hours in the agonizer boot; identified leaders spending the most time there, followed by death.

It had been many months since this thing they had begun and still Uhura was unsettled by it.

Control was not something she had ever given over to anyone. She had learned early, it was the one thing that could be used against her, yielding the most severe of consequences. Her own sister had lost control in this manner. Ambitious and overconfident, she was quickly used up and discarded. Finished by her own heart.

So every comfort given, every moment spent feeling like he had become a necessary part of her, only deepened this ingrained sense of disquiet.

The ship's compliment now knew. They watched as the captain purposely made public statements of possession. Nothing as vulgar as Kirk had done, but small movements, brief touches were common. He might stroke two fingers along the back of her wrist, allow a hand to gently rest on the nape of her slender neck, there and just as quickly gone. Rare displays for a race known for abhorring physical contact.

Looks of disgust passed over many faces. They thought she was trash was for allowing an alien to touch her. This was despite the fact that the reverse was fairly common.

Terran males had their run of the myriad of alien races they conquered, with those races with physical features closest to that of a human being most desired and conversely most feared.

"...A step down from fucking a dog, because at least it's Terran." She'd overheard Sulu say.

"And dogs don't betray their masters."

When he caught her listening he quickly quieted, his eyes going wide, having already been severely punished by Spock for his loose tongue, before.

He had found out Sulu had suggested Uhura's face should be cut as a lesson.

"...A whore's punishment for a whore." he had said.

His own face had been cut for that ill-timed outburst. Spock calmly drew the blade down his forehead and across his jaw, creating a second smile, vertically-crooked and awful; a yawning, ill-placed, maw.

"Your skill-level is uncommon, but not irreplaceable, Mr Sulu." Spock said as he watched blood trickle down the ruin of his face.

"Perhaps this will be sufficient attrition for your slight. ...If not however," he said tilting his head, thoughtfully. "Your death will neither be swift nor merciful."

There was no implied threat in the tone of his voice. Spock was simply stating facts. That made his words all the more effective.

At this latest outburst, Lt. Uhura merely met Mr. Sulu's eyes evenly, allowing a slow smile to spread over her lips.

"I do understand, Mr. Sulu. Really, I do. A change in management is always difficult to deal with.

Still..."

She said, heels clacking loudly as she stepped closer. She reached out and cradled his jaw in her hand, her dagger drawn and pressed against his upper thigh _-convenient if she wish to quickly unman him- _before he thought to move.

"We either adapt or... We- get fired."

Leaning in smoothly, she planted a gentle kiss on his scarred cheek and patted it briskly before walking on.

*

Nero's claw of a ship slipped through the black whirling abyss. A moment of celebration, their planet saved, cut short by the realization that they would never see their loved ones again.

They were now deep in the long gone Terran Empire, a universe unkind to anyone who was not human. Knowing the outcome, realizing their capabilities were massive, relative to this new time and space, Nero had found his new mission.

Topple the Terran Empire. Insure they would never be able to gain a foot-hold again.

But first he had to find Spock.

Revered for the work he had done to dismantle the Empire years down the road, he would find him.

He would find him and help him accelerate that work.


	5. dream

A/N: _I am so pleased with the reviews! I was worried that killing Kirk might put people off. I do love him, but he is so much a part of Spock in our AU, that action pretty much establishes that this is not our Spock. This chapter is more background and character moments for Uhura and Spock before we move on to this Nero. Huge apologies for working slowly._

_  
It is hazy.__  
_

_Nyota tips her head up and squints into the hot African sun._

_She has an ice-planet in her hand. It's pink ice drips down her arm and onto the pavement._

_She turns and sees her sister laughing beside her; taller, curvier, much more beautiful than she. They see a lone bedraggled Tellurite. Imani clings to her hand and draws her closer, away from the likely un-papered stray.-_

This is before she is discarded, before off-world gangs take what they know was an easy mark. No, her soul is still intact. She is still young. Both are. She has yet to begin what little shaping her body attains. They are both still untouched by the outside world, protected by their parents' credits and the privilege of being Terran. This power trumps even being female... for now.

Her home is still as it was. Nyota vaguely realizes that yes, this is a dream...but no, she must will herself to hold on to it.

This moment of sweet normality...

She tries to make herself forget that it's all _gone-_

She starts, dagger in hand, eyes darting around before rubbing them free of sleep in the low light of her empty cabin.

"...computer, time -"

_-1400 hours.-_

She curses because she can only blame herself for this. She asked Spock to give her space. It seems that once Vulcans are bonded it is difficult for them to be apart from their mates, _'-mentally taxing'_ as he put it.

When he is in her bed she does not dream of past joys. These visions do not torment her with their distance, the impossibility of ever being reclaimed.

Now, she must settle for her alien lover. She shivers. Her dream is too fresh. She could almost still smell the sun.

And _they _ended it _all._

Aliens. Like her lover.

Spock knows she resents him for being - not completely human. Their bond is such that she could not hide such a thing if she wanted to. And she in turn knows that he resents the human parts of him.

_Both_ of them.

She saw how his mother, _-Amanda_ was treated, taken prisoner in an attack. Once it was determined the Empire would not make deals for their lives, they were given over to service on Vulcan.

Spock had touched his mother's mind in his youth, curious as he was about his origins despite being raised by Vulcan nurses. So, she knew it was under shamefully similar circumstances that Amanda came to be bonded to Sarek.

He had found himself drawn to her, almost against his will in much the same way it began with her. Intrigued by this human female's delicacy, fragility, so he told himself. The roundness of their faces. The coolness of their skin, their moist mouths and eyes and frequent perspiration. Their flagrant emotionalism. It was fascinating to watch such delicate creatures stubbornly endure despite their own biological failings.

Another human male had interest in her. When it came to be his time... He simply disposed of the obstacle and claimed her.

Vulcans claim such superiority despite, -no _because _they were conquered by humans. -Convinced they are above the emotionally flagrant low creatures they believe humans to be and yet _they_ are the ones beholden to their bodies' whims, to grip and rut and bite more than a Terran animal in heat, lest they die.

Nyota laughed darkly. She knew how much he needed it even outside of _'his time'_ as he called it.

Of course, he insisted it merely reinforced the connection, but she knew his desires. And how much it would hurt him to have her press the truth of it from his lips. And those desires would be considered perverse by many. This at least, she did not mind. Experiencing his surprisingly creative needs were far from unwelcome. Her mind being tied to his meant his pleasure was contingent upon her own. She would always have pleasure in the act.

Often he even tested her endurance of it.

Nyota wondered sometimes about Amanda, and about herself. If it were truly love that is part of this bond or if the Vulcan had tricked her into believing it as part of it.

She couldn't even muster true disgust at this possibility for the bond she felt.

She did know that Amanda was still _his_ consort and she knew he felt something for his mother despite the imposed distance, knew she felt something for Sarek, now.

Nyota frowned at this last. Thirty years from now, where would she be?

Still _his?_

Her stubborn heart insisted no.

*

Spock sat unblinkingly in his cabin starring at the comm, glad of the space Nyota had afforded him this night. He played and replayed the message, it's encrypted specs unlike any he had seen before. Of course, he knew the origins. This was revealed right along with the message. Had it not been, it would have still been clear to him.

Logic dictated caution, that this could very likely be trap. But, the other part, the lesser part of him told him this was not.

Still, once this was done, it could not be undone.

It would be wise to be certain.

He sent the coordinates back through the encrypted channels to Nero.


End file.
